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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25292014">I'll Be Seeing You (In Hell)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick'>trashcangimmick</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Babysitter Steve Harrington, Fear Play, Friends With Benefits, Fuckbuddies, Horror Kink, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Pranks, Rough Sex, Under-negotiated Kink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:47:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,726</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25292014</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Why does the weird stuff always happen to the babysitter?</p><p>Or: Steve gets a taste of life as Laurie Strode.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>212</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>harringrove for BLM</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I'll Be Seeing You (In Hell)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/avameow/gifts">avameow</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yes. I am in fact continuing my 'Billy gets hard over slasher movies' vibe.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dustin resents the arrangement being referred to as <em> babysitting. </em> Because Dustin is fourteen, and he’s too old to need a babysitter. But his mom isn’t the sort of person who could leave Dustin alone for a night, much less a whole weekend. Him going off to summer camp was only excusable because there would be chaperones all the time. So when she has to drive up to Indy to visit her sick sister, Steve ‘hangs out’ with Dustin for a couple nights. </p><p> </p><p>It’s actually pretty nice. Steve brings them movies from work. They eat popcorn. Dustin rambles about weird nerd shit that goes over Steve’s head. They talk about girls. Dustin’s also a good kid who will get his homework done and is more than ready to go to bed by like 10pm. </p><p> </p><p>Steve sleeps in the guest room. He usually stays up past midnight, drinking Mrs. Henderson’s gin, and watching whatever garbage is on TV. Mostly shitty horror flicks. Used to be he couldn’t watch horror movies by himself. He’s seen enough weird things at this point in life that pretty much nothing fazes him. </p><p> </p><p>Y’know. Like his fuckbuddy showing up at his house after apparently breaking out of the morgue, where he’d been declared dead hours ago. Billy didn’t want to go to the hospital. He took a long shower, leaving the tub covered in horrible black gunk, and passed out in Steve’s bed for about eighteen hours. During which Steve pretty much had a consistent anxiety attack about whether or not Billy had died again. Steve also thought he might have finally snapped and gone off the deep end.</p><p> </p><p>But Billy walks and talks just fine. He doesn’t seem possessed by anything besides his usual dickishness. There’s a big scar in the middle of his chest, he says he doesn’t remember anything that happened after his car crashed. They don’t talk about it. They kinda don’t talk much in general? They just have dirty sex. That’s absolutely fine with Steve. He loves dirty sex.</p><p> </p><p>Sometimes Billy comes over after Dustin’s asleep. Steve tends to insist they fuck in the car, because he’s absolutely <em> not </em> going to wake Dustin up like that. Billy is a screamer, which is kinda understandable considering the size of Steve’s cock. Like. Most people are loud when they’re taking nine inches. And if Billy tops, then he uses way too much lube, and fucks so hard and fast it makes the filthiest sort of wet noises. He also likes to say a bunch of shit that would likely scar Dustin for life if he overheard it. So. Yeah.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a Friday. Or maybe, technically Saturday? Steve glances at the clock above the TV and yeah. It’s officially 12:03, so Saturday. Dustin’s been konked out for hours. Billy is late. He said he was coming by at 11:30. It’s not a big deal or anything. Billy’s rarely on time for anything. It’s possible he just wont show up at all, which would be a little disappointing. Steve’s been low grade horny all night, because he’s been thinking about Billy’s dick. Worse comes to worst, though, Steve can just jack it thinking about how Billy let him into the pool after hours yesterday. He’ll come thinking about how he pinned Billy against the tile wall of the shower and fucked him so hard he cried. Billy’s ass feels amazing. His mouth feels amazing. Steve lights up bright and hot anywhere Billy touches him. Just a squeeze on the shoulder or a swat on the ass makes Steve ache for more. Ideally, he’d just be naked and pressed against Billy’s smooth, golden skin like 24/7. Stupid things hinder that goal. Like working, eating, and sleeping. Bullshit.</p><p> </p><p>Steve’s glass is empty. He stands up and walks over to the kitchen, aiming for a refill. He’s pleasantly buzzed. He’d like to be drunk. As he’s passing through the hallway, the porch lights flick on. Motion sensor. Steve stops in his tracks and turns to look at the front door. </p><p> </p><p>Nobody should be this close to Dustin’s house this late at night. Maybe it’s just a skunk or something.</p><p> </p><p>Steve approaches one of the windows that flank the door and flicks the curtain back. </p><p> </p><p>Nothing’s there. At least nothing he can see. He still stands there until the light flicks off again. Probably just drunken paranoia. He checks the locks before stepping back and heading towards the kitchen. He’s halfway through pouring his drink before the light flicks back on.</p><p> </p><p>Steve grabs a flashlight from the junk drawer and walks to the front door again. He pulls the curtain back once more. There’s no animal or person visible in the pool of light. It’s probably dumb. But Steve isn’t about to get caught with his pants down. So he unlocks the door and steps out onto the porch, shining the flashlight. </p><p> </p><p>Almost as soon as he does, he sees a hint of motion. He catches it in the flashlight beam. </p><p> </p><p>It’s a toy truck. Remote controlled. It drives forward almost to the edge of the sidewalk, gears whirring. Steve stares at it. Hair standing on end. What the fuck? Is someone fucking with him?</p><p> </p><p>The truck abruptly starts backing up. Far out of the radius of the porch light. Steve isn’t sure if he should follow it. He takes a few tentative steps. No. He should… call the cops? Wake Dustin up? Is <em> that </em> dumb? It’s just a toy. But. </p><p> </p><p>The car rolls forward again. Then back. Steve follows it with the flashlight. He can’t see who’s controlling it. </p><p> </p><p>“OK… this is weird.” He calls out to the empty street. “You can stop now?”</p><p> </p><p>He hears the creak of a floorboard behind him. There’s someone standing just inside the doorway. They’re wearing dark pants. Boots. They take a few slow steps forward. Dark, nondescript sweater. Gloves. They’re wearing a mask. One of those rubber Michael Myers masks you’d find at a halloween store. They’re holding a huge knife. </p><p> </p><p>Steve doesn’t know what to do. The phone is in the kitchen. He doesn’t have a weapon. The person raises their free hand and waves their fingers, tilting their head to one side. Then they raise the knife and keep walking forward. Steve steps back. He should—Dustin’s inside—shit—fuck—the attacker swings the knife, chuckling. </p><p> </p><p>Steve runs. He hears the footfalls behind him, chasing him down the street. Steve doesn’t know where he’s going. It’s sadly not the first time he’s run for his life. He’s still holding the flashlight. It’s a quick call. Turning on his heel and flashing it directly in his assailant’s eyes. They stumble. Curse. Steve turns the light off and takes off into the trees. </p><p> </p><p>It’s not perfectly dark. There’s still enough moonlight filtering through the branches that Steve’s not fully hidden. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t make it far. Arms wrap around his waist. Tackling him. Dragging him to the ground. He lands face down in the dirt. The assailant flips him onto his back. Sits on top of him. Holding him down by his shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>Steve doesn’t see the knife anymore. The person in the mask is just staring at him. </p><p> </p><p>They let go of one of his shoulders. They grip the bottom of the mask and lift it. Billy’s smug grin is recognizable anywhere. Steve lets out a long groan. He shoves Billy in the chest before the mask is even all the way off. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Fuck you, </em>Billy. Jesus christ.”</p><p> </p><p>“You should have seen your face.” Billy cackles as he tosses the mask aside. “Mr. Monster Hunter. Scared shitless.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why—why would you do this? Are you insane?”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean. Yeah.” Billy rolls his hips. Grinding on Steve like a stripper. “Got your heart rate up though, didn’t I?”</p><p> </p><p>“That was not sexy.” Steve tries to sit up. </p><p> </p><p>Billy pushes him back down. Falls on top of them so they’re almost nose to nose. “What? You got all horned up when we were watching Halloween last week. It not as fun when you’re the star?”</p><p> </p><p>“Get off of me.” Steve’s heart is hammering. He’s dizzy. Billy’s obviously hard and still grinding on him. If that continues for much longer, Steve’s gonna pop a boner as a reflex. He can’t encourage this behavior. He shouldn’t. </p><p> </p><p>“I seem to remember a lot of talk about how Michael Myers was so big and strong. How his cock must be huge.” Billy licks up the side of Steve’s neck. “How it woulda been a better movie if he was sticking something besides a knife in people.”</p><p> </p><p><em> “You </em> said that, Billy. Because you’re disgusting.”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, sure I said some of it. But you definitely came during a death scene. So.”</p><p> </p><p>Steve’s getting hard. He can’t help it, the way Billy’s squirming on top of him. Sometimes the adrenaline of fear gets a little mixed up with the rush of lust. It’s not some sort of secret. That’s why people go on dates to scary movies. Maybe Steve let things go a little to far when Billy started initiating sex during scary movies. He didn’t think they’d wind up this far off the reservation. But. </p><p> </p><p>Billy is a human accelerant. Give him any spark of a bad idea and he’ll make it into a mushroom cloud of hedonism. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry for freaking you out so bad.” Billy couldn’t sound less contrite. “I’ll make it up to you.”</p><p> </p><p>And with that he crawls back. He pops open the button of Steve’s jeans and pulls the zipper down. Then the perfect, wet heat of his mouth is wrapped around Steve’s dick and it feels so fucking good. Steve entirely forgets that he’s lying on an uneven forest floor with sticks poking into his back. </p><p> </p><p>Billy’s blowjobs are <em> messy. </em>Globs of spit everywhere. Slurping noises. He always takes too much, and gags, and gets competitive with himself and tries to take even more. He facefucks himself without so much as an encouraging hand on his head. Steve just lies there, feeling Billy’s tonsils. Feeling the way Billy’s throat convulses as he chokes. </p><p> </p><p>When Billy comes up for air, he’s gasping. His face is a flushed wreck. His eyes are wild. </p><p> </p><p>“Can I fuck you?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>“You wanna fuck me, then?”</p><p> </p><p>“Billy.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so horny, baby. I know you are too.” He gives Steve’s dick a couple slow strokes, to illustrate the point. </p><p> </p><p>Steve is weak. He reaches out and unbuttons Billy’s jeans. Billy grins. He gets off Steve and flops down on his back. He fishes a small bottle of lotion out of his jacket pocket and tosses it on Steve’s chest. He doesn’t bother taking his jeans off. He just pulls them down and folds his legs back, exposing himself. It’s crass in the way Billy always is.  It’s intoxicating in a way Steve almost wishes it wasn’t. </p><p> </p><p>Steve gets on his knees, settles down, thighs pressing against Billy’s ass, helping hold him in place. Billy wraps a hand around his dick and starts stroking himself. He’s uncut. Steve’s always a little mesmerized, watching the foreskin slip over the silky pink head of Billy’s thick cock. Steve’s real horny at this point. His dick is throbbing, aching to get inside Billy’s heat. </p><p> </p><p>So Steve pops the cap on the bottle open and squeezes some onto his fingers. He slips his hand between Billy’s ass cheeks and presses against his hole. Billy groans, mouth hanging open, eyes bright with lust. It’s pretty easy to get a couple fingers in him, tugging at his rim, making his breath hitch. Steve’s always been good with his hands. A lot of the girls he’s fucked have told him so. He’s got long fingers. He doesn’t push them in far, though. He just adds more lotion and keeps swirling them around the rim of Billy’s hole. </p><p> </p><p>“C’mon. I’m ready.” Billy lets go of his own cock, pulls his legs back further so he’s basically folded in half.</p><p> </p><p>Steve lines his cock up and presses forward. He groans, breathing heavy. Billy is tight. He can’t take Steve all the way at first, especially without real lube. He feels so good. So hot and silky on the inside. Steve bites his lip. </p><p> </p><p>“Should I put the mask back on?” Billy chuckles low and dark.</p><p> </p><p>Steve smacks him on the ass and pushes further into him. Billy moans. He squirms, trying to get Steve all the way in. It must sting. Billy is kind of a pain slut. He’d fuck with nothing but spit if Steve let him. </p><p> </p><p>Sometimes, Steve’s likes to imagine that he could feel his own dick moving inside Billy--if he laid a hand over Billy’s flat abdomen and pressed down hard enough. He’s never done it, because he’d be disappointed if it didn’t work. The idea makes him tingle all over. Billy’s whining on every thrust. Working himself up to get real loud. It works Steve up too. </p><p> </p><p>He likes making Billy scream. It feels like a job well done.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck.” Billy’s voice breaks. “God <em> damn </em>, Harrington. Give it to me.”</p><p> </p><p>Steve grabs Billy’s ass and spreads it wider. He’s fucking deep, but not too fast. He loves the slow drag out. He loves feeling Billy’s body clutch at him, try to keep him inside. </p><p> </p><p>“C’mon. Faster.” Billy gasps.</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>Steve shoves as deep as he can and just rocks into him slow and dirty. He shifts more of his weight onto Billy. Grabs below his knees and holds him down. Billy thrashes, but doesn’t have much leverage. Steve grins down at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you like it tender, baby?” Steve lets a syrupy smile slide across his face. “It’s <em> romantic.” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Getting dirt in my hair with rocks poking in my back ain’t goddamn romantic. Hurry up.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re the one who chased me into the woods.” </p><p> </p><p>“You’re the scardey-bitch who ran away.”</p><p> </p><p>Steve knows exactly what’s happening. Billy needling at him to piss him off. Billy likes rough, angry sex. Problem is, Steve immensely enjoys pissing Billy off. So he keeps on smiling. Rolling his hips smooth and gentle, like he’s fucking a virgin on prom night.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re so tight. I don’t wanna hurt you.”</p><p> </p><p>Billy lets go of his own legs to swat at Steve’s shoulders. “Let me up, I wanna ride you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nah. If you’re in such a hurry to get off, touch yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>Billy narrows his eyes. Then he tightens up even more, squeezing down around Steve. It’s a lot to cope with. Feels so fucking good. Steve shudders. </p><p> </p><p>“Do I gotta say please?” Billy licks his swollen lips. “Please, Harrington, fuck me stupid? Need it so bad, dream about it? You really need that big a boost to your ego before you’ll do me right?” </p><p> </p><p>The sarcasm doesn’t quite hide the actual desperation. Steve relents. He pulls out nearly all the way and slams back in. He snaps his hips fast. Billy’s hands scrabble at the dirt. His mouth falls open. Every breath and increasingly high-pitched grunt.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Yes, yes, yes.” </em> </p><p> </p><p>Billy sounds like such a slut. It makes Steve’s blood too hot. He’s getting off way too hard already. This isn’t gonna last. He gets a hand around Billy’s dick. Jerks him off sloppy. Billy’s back arches. He clenches around Steve, pulsing rhythmically as his dick twitches, splattering cum all over his sweater. He does scream. It bounces off the trees, slowly becoming duller as it echoes.</p><p> </p><p>It’s kind of a blur after that. Raw sensation. Billy’s oversensitive yelps. Steve takes what he wants, exactly how he wants it. The ultimate tension snap and release leaves him dizzy and breathless. </p><p> </p><p>He sits back on his heels, slowly slides out of Billy. Billy stays on the ground, looking slightly dazed.</p><p> </p><p>“You sleeping over? Mrs. Henderson won’t be back till Sunday night.” Steve tucks himself away and zips his pants up. He doesn’t make eye contact. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Probably. I need a shower, at least.”</p><p> </p><p>Billy stands up, precarious. He dusts himself off and gets his jeans back on. He’s still a mess. Detritus of the forest floor stuck in his blonde curls hair. Steve probably doesn’t look any better. They’re both filthy.</p><p> </p><p>Billy bends down and picks up the Michael Meyers mask. 

</p><p> </p><p>“So what do I gotta do to get you to put this on next time you raw me?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re gross, Billy.”</p><p> </p><p>“You like it.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title from "Die, Die My Darling" by the Misfits. </p><p>I have been playing too much Dead By Daylight.</p><p>Check out <a href="https://harringrovetrashh.tumblr.com/post/619750186613440512/im-back-again-i-know-youre-probably-sick-of-me">Harringrove for BLM.</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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